Watch Your Back
by A Girl With An Idea
Summary: Words of Moriarty returning to London is spreading like a wildfire, and all Elizabeth can do is keep calm and try to live a normal life with Sherlock and John. But because of college, cases and consulting criminals, 'keeping calm' is a more difficult task than she imagined. This is a sequel to 'The Unwanted Holmes', so it might be easier to read that first.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a sequel to The Unwanted Holmes, which can be found on my profile :)**

**I can't believe it's been a year since I uploaded The Unwanted Holmes Chapter 1, so I decided to mak****e a sequel in order to celebrate the 1 year anniversary :) So enjoy!**

**Summary of The Unwanted Holmes can be from the last chapter of the Unwanted Holmes, if that makes sense.**

**Also, I don't own anything. Just putting that out there now.**

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The first requirement of living in London is that you should always carry an umbrella. The trouble with London-and pretty much the rest of Britain- is that the weather can be very unpredictable. It can rain one minute and shine the next. So it was distressing to Eliza that she had forgotten her umbrella, and was now standing outside Pendleton College in the pouring rain; not even trying to protect herself and her clothes from getting drenched.

However, if she would have known this morning that she would be dismissed from college and forced to leave the college grounds, the very first thing she would have done was bring an umbrella (and possibly a pair of water-proof boots).

In theory she had two options: a) Walk three miles back home and risk getting hypothermia or b) Wait patiently for Mycroft to send one of his cars to come and pick her up. Calling a taxi wasn't an option, since the lack of a job has led her to save as much money as she could. Calling Sherlock could be considered, but there was always a chance that he wouldn't pick up the phone or would leave her to suffer in the cold. Not having her phone with her was also part of the problem.

The decision was decided itself, because as she started to walk down the street a black, discrete car came to a halt next to her. She took one look at the car and kept walking; the chances that she would be send to Mycroft were high. She took one look back around and saw Anthea (she had changed her name yet again, but preferred Anthea instead) exiting the car and holding the door for her.

"Ms. Holmes, would you please get in the car-"

"Eliza." she said, turning her whole body towards the direction of the car.

"I'm sorry?"

"Elizabeth's a bit of a mouthful...don't you agree? And also it's far too 'Elizabethan' if you pardon the pun, so it seemed logical to change it to Eliza. Many prefer Eliza. I do especially as it's more 'youthful' and people don't take the piss out of me, not like they did with Elizabeth."

Anthea took one look at her before replying, "I insist that you get in the car, Elizabeth. Mr. Holmes has told me personally to escort you to his office."

"And what happens if I don't? Are you just going to keep following me until I finally agree? I'm sorry, but you won't succeed-" She didn't have time to calculate what was happening, as two tallish looking men left the car and walked in a fast pace towards her. Neither of them made any sign of slowing down, "Okay, okay. Fine. Just back away, will you? I was only joking around."

Eliza took one last look at the pair before pushing past them and towards the car; giving Anthea an irritated glare as she lunged herself into the backseat of the car. Maybe option b was a good idea, as the feeling in her fingers was returning.

It never failed to impress Eliza on how incredibly dull Mycroft's office actually was; maybe the lack of interesting ornaments was the reason. The thought of visiting Mycroft's office depressed her in a sense that there was nothing interesting at all; not even the windows were interesting.

Also- almost every time she would visit- the pair of them would first sit in silence. Mycroft would sit at his desk while glaring down at Eliza as she picked up random items from his desk; she always does it, even if she had seen the same object over and over again, it had become compulsory.

"You know why you're here, don't you?" he turned his computer monitor to face Eliza; on it was her student profile, "It's been the sixth time that you have been put on temporary suspension. I can't always save you from getting expelled. Why are you making this attempt at being a 'know it all'? Why is trying to get dismissed from college on your priority list?"

"Well, I don't know what list you're talking about, because it's certainly not on mine."

"Please Elizabeth stop acting like a child for one minute-"

"I'm not! I just don't see why I have to work with a group of people who torment me because of what happened over summer."

"Oh please, don't use that as an excuse-"

"Everyone knows, you know. Everyone knows that I was kidnapped by some psychopath, who killed my-" she paused, looking down at the ground, "Well, it's like I said. Everyone knows. They even know that I'm living with Sherlock and John. They think I've been adopted by a gay couple who solve crimes like from an Agatha Christie novel!"

"So don't use that as an excuse to be a social outcast and to constantly get into trouble!"

"Look Mycroft, I don't need an excuse to be a social outcast. I was one before I came to the college-"

"And don't you dare call me Mycroft, Elizabeth!" he stood up and paced behind his desk, "I've sent you to this college in hope that you achieve well, even if some terrible things have happened to you. I've let you live with Sherlock and John even though I didn't want that. So please try and be reasonable."

"Look, I'm fine when it comes to achieving. You've seen my student profile, I'm getting the highest grades in class, and I'm not even trying! In theory, I don't need to go to college but I appreciate your 'kindness'."

"You do need college. You will continue to go to college. Nothing more. I don't want any other excuse." his pace started to slow down, and after a minute he returned to sit at his chair, "Sometimes you need to make an effort. Stop getting yourself caught in situations like this. Keep out of trouble because what you're doing now can be considered unsafe."

Eliza took her eyes of the floor and stared up at Mycroft; he looked uncertain, almost afraid, "Something's happened? I know something has, you've been acting weird, far weirder than usual. It's actually freaking me out...so, what do you know?"

Mycroft looked behind Eliza in case anyone was listening in. Straightening his back, he turned to his computer and-after a few minutes- brought up a photo and showed it to her. The sight made her freeze in her seat; it was unbearable to look. She wanted to turn her head away, but the sight made her stare even more.

The photo was the outside of 221B Baker Street; everyone in the photo was going about their daily business, not looking at all suspicious. Well, except for one. In the far right of the picture was a dark figure who was dressed in only black. Judging by the picture, the figure was the only one stood still on the street, and was the only one looking up at the windows of the flat. The picture didn't need to be any clearer, she knew who it was.

"Moriarty." she said, practically spitting the name, "What in the name of god is he doing there?"

"What does it look like?" Mycroft brought up another picture of the same scene, but from a different angle, "I'm looking into it, there have been no sights of him anywhere since we found you at the house, until today."

"He's very good at hiding, I'll give you that." she never took her eyes off the photo, "Mycro- I mean dad, what's going to happen to me? To Sherlock or to John?"

"I'm not sure what he's planning, but we can't let him get any closer to the flat-" he said, bringing up another photo, "Also, these photos were taken just minutes after you returned from college. So that could mean-"

"That he could be following me? Does that mean he's after me again?!" she started to breath heavily, her eyes were glued to the screen, "What is his fucking problem?!"

"Elizabeth!" he shouted, "There's no need to panic. I've got the best working on this. All I need you to do is to inform Sherlock, John and also Mrs Hudson- just to be sure- about these photos."

Mycroft saw the state of his daughter- aware of how terrified she was- so decided to turn the monitor back around. He clicked a few buttons before Eliza could hear the printer behind her.

"I shall print these photos off for you to take back and show them to Sherlock. It's best if you do it, we've been having a 'disagreement' lately over a certain case involving a part-time hacker; part-time serial killer."

"Sounds interesting." she got up from her seat and collected the photos from the printer, clutching them tightly in her grip, "So will I be safe? You know, from Moriarty? I just want to know now before I get kidnapped again."

Mycroft sighed heavily, but got up from his seat and walked slowly towards Eliza, "I never knew you existed a year ago, but now I know that you are actually my daughter-"

"-After getting my DNA just to be sure, even though it angered me-"

"-I feel it is my top priority to make sure that nobody lays a finger on you for as long as I live, do you understand?"

"Yeah I guess so," she patted him gently on his upper arm before collecting her bag and leaving the office, but stopped to turn and stare at him, "But just so we're sure, I will be going back to college tomorrow, right?"

"Of course." he said, giving her his true, warm smile that made Eliza smile helplessly back. Somehow, even though he can be an infuriating man at times, he still never fails to shock her by showing emotions now and then.

It was raining. The first time she travelled to Baker Street, but then she was a fifteen year old teenager who had serious issues to deal with. Now, she was a sixteen year old teenager who had serious issues to deal with. She turned to look at Anthea, who was tapping away at her phone. In theory, it should be the other way around. Teenagers were commonly known for being on their phones too long, not adults. Eliza never uses her phone as it's always in her room, perhaps she should carry it around considering circumstances.

Living with Sherlock and John did have its perks. For starters, they let her look at cases that they were working on and even let her solve cases that were left unsolved in archives. Also, her blog was becoming as popular as John's blog. After moving into the flat, John suggested that she should start a blog to type up things that happens to her in her life. Most of the time, she talked about college and how idiotic some people were. Other times she would write up cases Sherlock was solving from her point of view. Once she even gave tips on deducing people, which was proven popular by most people from Scotland Yard (maybe because she explained it simpler than Sherlock does). Yes, living with Sherlock and John was fantastic for Eliza. It was another moment in her life to start again.

But now Moriarty was back. And it looked as if it was going to stay like that.

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**Hope you enjoyed. I'll upload another chapter in a week. Review if you thought it should be different or if you feel like it :)**

**SJ**


	2. Chapter 2

Just as-Eliza thought- they were about to park in front of the flat, Anthea tapped on the back of the driver's seat, leaned forward and whispered something to the driver which made him continue driving down the road. This made Eliza confused as she stared back at the flat and how further away they were going.

"We've been told by Mr Holmes that Sherlock isn't currently at the flat, nor is John or Mrs Hudson. So I've been given instructions to take you to Sherlock's location." said Anthea, who pushed her phone back into her pocket.

"Well, why can't I just stay in the flat? I'll be alright, I know where they keep the gun." said Eliza, as Anthea looked at her with amusement, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I can assure you that Ms Holmes. I've not been told why you can't stay at the flat, I've only been told that you mustn't-under any circumstances- be left alone at the flat, or anywhere else for that matter."

At first, Eliza was very suspicious of her father's behaviour but remembered quickly that a psychopath was probably watching the flat as they speak, so she decided that it was wise to not be left alone, "So where are you taking me then? Back to Mycroft's?"

"Good gracious no." she said, saying the last word longer than needed, "Your father is too busy with other important matters. He suggested that we take you to Sherlock and John. It's not far away from here, around 10 minutes left before we get there."

"And what is 'where' if I might ask?"

"41 Southport Street. Surely you must have heard Mr Holmes talk about it before you left for college, after he was called to visit the scene. Remember, was he and I quote from Mycroft: 'running around the house chanting murder'?"

"Yeah, but he always does that." she said plainly. However, the mention of an address and a crime only meant that Sherlock was at a crime scene. "Wait, so he's at a crime scene? But I thought I was banned after that thing I said to that Ander-something bloke?"

"I've been told what you said to Mr Anderson and I can assure you, that is the least that's been said to him. Also after days of persuasion, your father was able to let you visit crime scenes under supervision from Mr Watson." Anthea stopped and reached for her phone again, then added, "Also I've been informed that Mr Anderson is working at the scene today, if you would like to know."

This should be fun, Elizabeth thought. The last time she saw Anderson was when she said-as she remembered- 'you make me sick'. To her, that was one of the highlights of that day, as she rarely got to speak her mind to anybody. The faces that people made that day was also a highlight; she also remembered Sherlock's expression: a mix of shock and humour.

So if she was to go to the crime scene like Anthea told her, then-she told herself- she should stay on her best behaviour as she was to go to other crime scenes. But remembering back to what Anderson called her that day, there was a fat chance of keeping on her best behaviour.

* * *

The case sounded rather interesting- Elizabeth thought, as the car was pulling up outside the crime scene- when Sherlock explained it, before he left the house that morning. A woman had been shot in the head inside her own home; when the police got a call from a worried neighbour about noises, they tried to enter the house, but only to discover that the doors had been barricaded with most of the furniture in the house.

This could only mean that either: a) she barricaded the doors before shooting herself. However the problem with that was there was no gun discovered in the crime scene, so it was impossible. The other option was that the murderer barricaded the doors and then shot her, but how could they have left the house and was able to barricade the doors from the outside? She wondered how Sherlock was taking this case.

One of Mycroft's men walked round the car and opened the door for Eliza, who happily left the car with her bag without receiving a 'goodbye' or even a 'good luck' from Anthea. When she took a step outside, the man took her place in the seat and the car drove off without even any explanation on where she should go or wait.

Instead, she decided to pay a visit to Sherlock inside so ignored all the baffled police officers looking at her and walked under the blue and white tape and entered the house, not waiting for anyone to tell her off. Surprisingly, nobody stopped her; maybe because they knew about her from John's blog.

Inside the house was rather cosy, considering it's been cold outside. It was true what Sherlock said, all the furniture had been blocking all the entrances, except the front door had been cleared of furniture for people to walk past. Many people in plastic suits and light green coats walked past her, not caring if they were barging into her sides. Eventually, standing at the doorway made her angrier so moved out of the way and walked up the stairs.

The room where the murder must have happened was lit with lamps from Scotland Yard and centred on one corner of the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sherlock pacing back and forth in the small room who was- shockingly- not talking or making any deductions. The only sound coming from that room was the steps he was making.

Feeling pity for him- although she would never say that to him- she walked across the landing and stood at the side of the doorway and leaned her whole body to one side, crossing her arms across her chest, "And you said this would be easy."

All the people in the room turned to look at her- including Sherlock- and then to one another. Lestrade suddenly appeared from behind the door with John, who both looked happy to see her.

"Thank god your here. We need all the help we can get." said Lestrade, who was ushering her into the room, "I haven't seen you in months-"

"We don't need her help." said Sherlock, returning his gaze to the floor, "There's just something I'm missing. I'll find soon."

"Ignore him, he's just in a bad mood-" said John, "-as usual. We've been here for hours. Anyway, I thought you were in college today." he asked, but when she looked to the floor shyly, he took it as a sign, "Again? Really Eliza? Did Mycroft say anything?"

"He just said I need to get a couple of things sorted...and something else. Which is why I'm here you see and not at the flat." she braced herself-taking a deep breath- and made a start to explain, "You see, there's someone-"

"Shut up! Just shut up! I need to think! Anderson, turn your back." said Sherlock, who was now crouching down next to the body and placed his hands in a praying position.

"He isn't here." replied Lestrade, who looked at John and Eliza with puzzlement.

"Not in this room, but he's been listening in the landing. I know the steps he makes when he wants to say something," he said. This time, he spoke louder and addressed the door, "Anderson. Could you turn you back, or better in fact, leave the building."

"Why should I?" said Anderson, who appeared inside the room, "If you are really that great at solving crimes, then I shouldn't put you off then."

This two-person argument continued between Sherlock and Anderson, which was then joined by Lestrade and John. All four were distracted with something far less important than a murder, so she decided that this was her time to 'show off' again, not that she was complaining.

Inside the room was a basic bed, drawers and a desk, which were placed near the door. Looking down at the floorboards, the furniture must have been blocking the door before they were moved because of the scratches. The woman was sat still in the corner of the room with her head down, facing the floor. From looking at the rest of her house-including her bedroom- she guessed that this woman was rather young, as she had little furniture to go by. This could also mean-Eliza thought- that she had just finished University or was a nineteen year old who wanted to move out of her parent's house as soon as possible.

What was weird about the body was that there wasn't a 'rotting corpse' smell in the air. It's as if she was murdered today; not days or weeks ago.

However, Sherlock was right: there was something missing and the solution was in the room. It wasn't until she looked above the body and the surface of the walls when she figured it out. Even though it was a new house, the wallpaper looked years old. Walking up to the wall, she rested the side of her head onto it and placed her hands on either side of her. After a while of standing, she gently knocked on the wall and then moved to the other side of the room to knock on the other walls. Finally, she had come to a conclusion.

"Oi! Shut up for a minute!" she shouted at the four adults, who stopped shouting and turned to look at her, "Did any of you check the walls?" All of them looked at her with perplexity, except for Sherlock, who looked like his brains were about to explode from too much thinking, she continued, "I just ask because how can somebody murder a person in a barricaded room, unless there was another entrance." she walked up to Anderson and quickly took a pair of gloves from his pocket before he could protest.

When she put them on, she walked over to the body and moved her away from the wall. The woman was fairly heavy, but was able to drag her a few inches out of the way. There were sounds of gasping as she messed the crime scene, but when she shot them glances, they quickly shut up. Again, she knocked on the wall and this time; and then she heard the sound of Sherlock coming to sudden realisation.

"Of course!" he said, joining her side, "It's obvious!"

"I'm sorry to interrupt this child talk-" said Anderson, addressing Eliza, "But what's obvious?"

"Actually Anderson, can you please shut up for a second? Sherlock. I'm too small, do you see where the wallpaper hasn't been stuck on properly? Can you peel it back until it hits the floor?" she asked.

At first, he hesitated-his hands still above the wallpaper- but then when he felt it was the right time, he grabbed hold of the wallpaper and pulled it back with one quick tug. Everybody stepped back when behind the wallpaper revealed a door shaped archway which also looked like it was covered with wallpaper; on their side there was still traces of glue on it.

"The glue's still wet in some places. There's no corpse smell. This happened today." she turned to look at the stunned detective inspector, "What time did you say the man next door called about 'noises'?"

"This morning. Just before 10'o clock. He's still outside." he said. A pocket knife appeared from his pocket as he walked over to the wallpaper. With one swift movement, he used the knife to cut the wallpaper, which revealed the next door neighbours bedroom. Inside the room was empty, except for a chair that faced the wall, a couple of newspaper clippings scattered on the floor and a gun- the murder weapon- with bullets on the side that was perched on the chair.

Eliza looked proudly at the gun and finished her speech, "These houses were once one before the owner decided to turn them into two to rent to people. The owner now lives on this side, the side with the gun. He knew this archway existed. You couldn't find fingerprints because he used gloves. There's powder burns on her hands because he shot her twice: one with his hand, the next with hers in the same point in her head. I'm sorry, I don't know why he killed this woman, maybe the clippings will tell you that."

"There all linked with suicides." interrupted Sherlock, who walked towards the newspaper articles to pick them up, "All the suicides have been caused by a shot to the head. This is a man who is in his late 40s-"

"Who recently had a sister-" said Eliza, as she was catching onto Sherlock's deductions, "who committed suicide this way. When he rented out the other house to someone, maybe he had somebody in mind that looked like his sister. Maybe this woman reminded him of her sister and felt like he should continue this sort of ritual? I saw this in a film once. I don't get why murderers do this, but it's a bit obvious, don't you agree? 'Oh hey,'" she said, mocking the murderers voice, "' I'll kill all these women who look like my sister and kill them the same way as my sister killed herself. But don't worry. I didn't kill them'."

She looked at everyone: the captivation in Sherlock's eye, the way John looked amused by it all, how Lestrade looked relieved and how Anderson looked like he was going to scratch his eyes out. This was why she missed going to crime scenes.

As she walked towards the door-making sure to give Anderson a steady glare which read 'don't you say a word'- she turned back to look at Sherlock and John and asked them all in a blunt tone, "Fancy going to Angelo's?"

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**Author's Note: Thank you for reading :) I'm sorry that I'm not uploading this every two/three days, I might upload the next chapter tomorrow or the next day just to see how it goes :)**


	3. Chapter 3

Since Sherlock and John decided it was too early to go to Angelo's for tea- even though Eliza wouldn't call it early- Sherlock insisted that they go to St Barts for him to get more 'subjects' to experiment on, and by subjects he meant body parts. Even though John wasn't too keen on them, Eliza now found them fascinating- but she wouldn't admit that to Sherlock, or anyone in fact- and she didn't know why.

In actual fact, Eliza was quite shocked that John wanted to go to St Barts for a couple of hours as he usually had other important things to do. When she asked John why he didn't mind, he just said that 'I've leant that if he does his experiments here, he would do less at the flat tonight'.

Out of all the months she has been here, Eliza had only been to St Barts once and that was because of a college trip that they organised. Luckily, she didn't bump into Sherlock while she was there, or else the people she was with would have taunted her even more.

When all three got out of the taxi, Eliza ran over to the driver-with the money John gave her- and paid him, making sure that it wasn't anyone trying to hurt her in disguise. After knowing Moriarty and his men are out there, she felt that she would be doing this more often.

She caught them up inside as they were about to enter a lift, jumping in right before the doors were going to close them in. Maybe she should have warned them that she was claustrophobic before they entered. She never needed to say anything to them until now.

She backed up to the far wall and started to breath in and out for ten seconds, which was what her old doctor told her. John turned to look at her with worry, but Eliza just gave him reassuring smile before he smiled back and turned to face the doors again.

When the doors finally opened, she was the first to run out of the lift; followed by Sherlock and then John. All three walked down the corridor until they reached a large, white door which Sherlock held open for the other two. Inside was quite cool from the air conditioning above. A corpse was laid out on the table of a man who looked in his early 30s with a cloth covering obvious parts.

Stood next to the body was another person in a lab coat who must work here. Overall, she was smaller than Eliza and could resemble the qualities of a mouse, thought Eliza. Even as they entered the room, she gave out a squeak before regaining her composure.

"How fresh?" asked Sherlock, who took off his coat in one swift movement before chucking it to Eliza, who caught it with one hand.

"A- A week old. 33 year old man." she said, grabbing a clipboard before handing it to him. She turned her stare from Sherlock to John and Eliza, who were just about to sit down on the stools opposite them, "Who- Who's this?"

"Molly, Eliza. Eliza, Molly." replied John.

"We- We're not allowed to bring in pe- people under-"

"No matter. She's with me." said Sherlock, who sat down in the stool on the other side.

"It's lovely to meet you Molly." said Eliza, who put on her friendly voice, as someone at college said her normal voice was too intimidating.

"Lovely to meet you too." she looked back from Sherlock and then back at her, "Ho- How do you know Sherlock?"

"My uncle." she said, giving out a non-serious sigh, "I know. A lot of people have pity for me because of it. I have pity for myself to be honest."

"Mycroft has a daughter?" asked Molly, "He never mentioned anything about you."

"I'm not surprised to be honest, but still, it doesn't matter. I don't expect anything different from him-"

"Coffee. Black. 2 sugars. Tea. Strong. 2 sugars. Tea. Weak. 3 sugars." asked Sherlock, "Not all for me, obviously." Molly and Eliza just stared at him as if he offended them both, "What?"

"Sherlock, that's very-" said Eliza, but was cut off by Molly nodding her head and practically jogging out of the room. Eliza wondered if he treated her like that all the time, but surely he wouldn't do that if she lets him come here, "What was that for?!"

"What have I done wrong?" Sherlock asked, who was about to cut into the arm of the corpse, "I asked. She listened."

"Wow, and you've been doing that to her for how long?"

"Longer than I've been here-" said John, deciding to get involved, "So that makes it more than five years?" asked John; Sherlock nodded.

Eliza just decided to leave the conversation there, as she was too shocked that Sherlock would treat her in such a way. John looked just as angry as her, but for a reason, kept quiet through the whole thing.

So all three sat there for hours: John was tapping away at his phone; taking glances at Sherlock now and then, Sherlock was putting various bits of body parts in acid while taking a sip of his coffee- very unhygienic, she thought- and all she did was stare. With everyone around her on their phones, she cursed herself for not bringing it with her.

* * *

Surprisingly, Angelo's was closed for the day. They left St Barts at 6'o clock and it was already dark outside; got a cab to Angelo's and were now standing outside and thinking of what to do. The one thing she wanted to do was stay out for as long as possible, because the flat didn't feel safe anymore to her.

"Well, it doesn't matter." she said, "We can go somewhere else. John? Know any good take-aways on the way back?" she asked.

"There's that one place that does fish and chips. We'll go there." he said, walking down the street followed by her and Sherlock, "Honestly, they make the best fish and chips I've ever had-"

"What's the point of getting a take-away? It's wasting the time that I could be spending on experiments." said Sherlock.

"Nope. Not today. You promised me that if we took you to St Barts you wouldn't experiment until tomorrow." he turned the corner and looked back at the pair following shortly behind, "And anyway, you haven't had anything to eat in the past two days, so I'm not taking no as an answer."

"How could you not eat anything in two days? You live in London for god's sake! There's a restaurant around every corner! You even live above a cafe, why don't you eat every day? If you've been living here all your life, then why do you still look like a stick!?" said Eliza, who just looked at Sherlock in pure horror.

"Food slows the brain down. If the brain slows down, then I slow down. If I slow down, then I wouldn't be able to solve crimes. And if wouldn't be able to-"

"Right, we get the picture. And like I've been telling you, I thought food speeds up the brain, not the other way around." said John. In the distance, John looked over to the corner where- Eliza saw- there was a fish and chip shop which was still open, "Well, it doesn't matter. We're here. You're eating. No more excuses."

When they approached the shop, John told the two to stay outside and wait for them while he ordered the food, leaving Eliza to stand silently next to Sherlock, eager to tell him already about Moriarty. When she felt he wasn't going to say anything, she finally told him.

"You remember Moriarty? Right?" she asked, soon after telling herself it was a stupid thing to ask. Sherlock gave her an 'are you serious' face and turned his head away from her, "Well, of course you do. Well, it's been a while since we've heard from, hasn't it?"

"He's been very quiet, yes. I don't see the problem." he said plainly. Eliza couldn't think of anything to say and just kept quiet until John returned. Outside was rather cold, but a heat came from inside that heated the right side of her body. The sounds of plates and shouts came from inside, but were cut short when the door to the shop would close. After that, the sounds of the cars and groups of people walking home at night could be heard. The door opened again, followed by John's footsteps walking towards them, "Are you happy now?" asked Sherlock, who took a bag of chips from John and handed them to her.

They were about to walk away from the shop until Eliza stopped walking and continued to stare at the others walking away from her, "Wait! Stop!" she called out to them. Both turned to look at her: Sherlock looked irritated while John just looked concerned, "Can't we just sit here for a minute? I don't want to go back to the flat yet. Yeah, it's rained all day but that shouldn't stop us!"

"You've been acting weird all day." said John who was walking towards her, "What's wrong with you?"

"Just leave her here John; she knows the way back from here." Sherlock turned around and started to walk back in the same direction.

"NO! STOP! Don't leave me here! I don't want to be on my own! Please! I'm- I'm scared!" she shouted. A couple of people walking by stopped and looked at her as if she was shouting these things to herself, but kept walking. Sherlock listened, turned around and just stared at Eliza, who looked like she was going to collapse, "Please?"

There was a rather large window shelf below the window- that was very close to the ground- which she walked over to and sat down with her legs spread out onto the path as she clutched her bag tighter. Soon John walked over and sat next to her on her right; she told herself to not laugh as she saw that her legs were far longer than his. Then Sherlock did the same and sat down to her left. Looking from left to right, she saw John looked worried with her as he did when she was in hospital; Sherlock looked like he's been given a case.

This was the perfect moment- Eliza thought- to bring out the picture that her dad gave her this morning, so she did. As she put the bag of chips inside her bag, she reached down to retrieve the pictures. Looking at them again made her feel even more scared than she could possibly imagine.

"Myc- I mean my dad, gave these to me to show to you." she handed them each a picture so all three had the same image, but from different angles, "They were taken yesterday."

"This is the flat." said John, looking at the photos in puzzlement and then to her, "Why do you have these?"

"Can you see there?" she used both her hands to point down at the pictures towards the figure, "That person has been watching the flat while we've been inside, and that's all he does: just watches the flat." She paused, taking in a deep breath, "And they look a lot like-"

"Moriarty." replied Sherlock, "That's why you asked me about him."

"What the fuck?!" said John, who took the photo Eliza held and stared at it, "Look at the date and time, we were all in the flat when this happened. Jesus Christ, it looks exactly like him."

"It was taken minutes after I got back from college, which could mean that-"

"He's been following you." said Sherlock, not a question but a statement.

"Why do you think he's doing this?" asked John, "You'd think he would just give up, after she killed Moran-"

"Hey! That was an accident! Anyway, it doesn't matter why he's doing this; it's obvious that he's planning something that we don't know. Something like last time. He could kidnap any one of us and kill us off. It's just- how can we stay safe? I mean he could be watching us right now!" she said, looking out to the road and paths to find anyone, just in case he was actually watching.

All three looked around, then Sherlock and John handed the pictures back to her; she put the pictures back and took the chips out of the bag again. Stretching her arms, she bent her knees and got back up again and waited for the others to do the same.

"We can't stay out of the flat forever. I have important experiments that need to be tended to. John needs to type up the case. And if I recall, you have college tomorrow and you have been sleeping less lately, judging by how many times you've 'nodded off'. There, I've given you three reasons. Let's go." said Sherlock in a blunt way. Turning his heel and walking down the street again, with his hands in his pockets.

Both John and Eliza just looked at Sherlock, then towards each other. It was clear that neither of them wanted to go back to the flat yet, but then they think about the empty flat and leaving Sherlock to go on his own. They both took a chip out of their bag and ate the piece before walking-slower than Sherlock- back to the flat.

They both hoped that Moriarty wouldn't be there to greet them.

* * *

**Author's Note: So yeah, I decided to upload this. I did say yesterday but I couldn't get wifi yesterday, so it was today :) I'll update it again on Sunday :) If you want the story to go in a certain direction, then just comment and I'll consider :) Thank you for reading :)**


	4. Chapter 4

_A single gunshot fired in the occupied room, which sent an electric spark down my spine as I tried to focus. Only one gunshot was needed to start a war, and this is what it felt like to me: the start of a war. I tried to get up and escape the dangers of the room, but I couldn't. My body was blocked by a madman. His arms and legs covered me like a cage; making it difficult for me to escape. A pain. There was a stinging pain in my head; it never stopped. I wanted it to stop so much, but it didn't. I was so alone. _

Eliza bolted upright into a sitting position; her eyes blurry from recent tears when she tried to wipe them away. The room was different than her dream, far more different. It was the living room. People would call what she experienced a nightmare, but she didn't want to use that word. The word 'Nightmare' conjured up images of the past and the possibility of needing 'psychological help', as the people at college called it. The problem was she had been having this dream every day since it happened: same time; same people; same room. So she replaced 'nightmare' with 'dream' for her own sake.

In a couple of hours, she would be going to college for yet another day. Last night she had considered trying to get expelled again, but even she could admit that she didn't want that. Months ago, Sherlock ordered to have his room back as it was the only place to get privacy; Eliza was willing to give up the room to him in exchange for helping him with experiments. Surprisingly, he said yes to her terms.

Eliza looked at the phone plugged into the wall next to the large couch and picked it up; stretching her whole body off the couch in order to reach it. Turning it on, she looked at the time. _8:45a.m. _"Shit. Shit. Fucking Shit." she said, realising she had thirty minutes to get ready; get breakfast; check last night's experiment; and type up the crime scene last night on her blog.

The floorboards made a large creaking sound as Eliza fell off the couch and ran to Sherlock's room. The clothes that accompanied her to Baker Street were in Sherlock's room, as there were no wardrobes in the living room. Without knocking, she barged into the room and ran to the far wardrobe to retrieve some clothes.

"What the hell are you doing!?" shouted Sherlock from under the covers. It was surprising to see Sherlock in a sleeping state; it was also rather humorous.

"Can't talk now!" she shouted back, finding a pair of blue jeans and an old jumper she borrowed. Ever since she had moved in with Sherlock and John, she had grown rather fond of John's jumpers. One day she asked to try one on- she said it was for an experiment- and in the end she kept it; John didn't notice, "I've got thirty minutes to get ready, get some food, type up what happened yesterday on my blog _and _record the results from last night's experiment."

"People read your blog?" he asked. Once she gathered all her clothes, she turned around to see Sherlock lift his head from under the covers; his hair was flat on one side while it was tangled and big on the other; Eliza couldn't contain her laughter. Sherlock lifted a hand to his head and ruffled the flattened side, "Shut up!"

"Okay, okay-" she said, lifting her arms in defence, "Don't get your hair in a twist Shirley, and anyway, of course people read my blog. You know I checked last night how many hits I had, guess how many I have." Eliza said, but Sherlock ignored her and wrapped himself in his duvet, "Four thousand hits. I think that's pretty amazing, if I say so myse- Wait, you're distracting me!"

Closing the wardrobe doors, she ran across the room- nudging Sherlock's shoulder with her arm- and entered the bathroom downstairs; reaching the room first before Sherlock could even try. As she got herself ready, she heard the house finally start to wake up again: Sherlock was shouting at something on T.V (possibly Jeremy Kyle), John was walking down the stairs complaining about all the noise and Mrs Hudson walked into the living room to make everyone tea. This didn't usually happen, as there might be a case on or Mrs Hudson was away. When it did happen, 221B almost felt like a proper home. How incredibly dull, she thought to herself.

Once she left the bathroom, she chucked her old clothes in a hamper and walked back into the living room. Inside, Sherlock and John were sat on the far right table, but there was no sign of Mrs Hudson. She probably had things to do, she thought to herself. Eliza ignored everyone and went to check on the fridge. The experiment last night involved several fingers, acid and plants; all kept in the secure section of the fridge which was installed by Mycroft with John's orders.

"Sherlock? What happens if the plant turns to a different colour? And there are these weird things growing as layers on top of the acid, what does that-" she didn't have time to finish as she was interrupted by Sherlock, who pushed her aside and picked up the beakers used, "Should you be doing that while wearing your bed covers?"

"No time." he said, placing each beaker next to each other on the counter, "I have to record these quickly before the oxygen has an effect on the fingers." Sherlock pulled on a pair of gloves and sat down on the counter chair and began recording the information down.

"Right, fine. You do that then." she said. Walking over to the kettle, she poured herself some water-as it was already hot- and prepared herself a cup of tea before joining John at the table. The laptop she needed was next to John's chair, so she grabbed it and sat down in the seat opposite John, who looked up at Eliza as if she was holding a human head.

"Wait, how long are you going to use that?" he asked, taking a piece of toast from the middle of the table, "I need to type up the case too."

"I'll probably use it for the rest of the time until Anthea gets here with the car." she said, opening up the laptop and entering the password without needing hints from John, "If you need to type up the case so badly then just use your phone like I taught you." said Eliza, tilting her head towards John's phone that sat above a pile of medical textbooks.

Whenever she had her phone, she would type up something interesting on her blog like it was a quick update. One day John spotted her and asked what she was doing; when she said she was typing up a post on her blog, John wanted to know how, so she taught him. There was a slight problem with John's typing though.

Ten minutes later- with six minutes to go before Anthea picked her up- she was still working on her blog; as did John. But the only thing that was becoming a distraction was John's typing: it was incredibly slow and John was trying too hard, "Jesus Christ John, just type the case up as if you're sending a text!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" he said, pressing down harder on his phone, "It's just this stupid phone, the buttons are too small."

"You know they've invented these phones that have incredibly large buttons the size of a nail, maybe you should spend your money on that instead of on your girlfriends."

"Shut up Eliza." he said, tossing his phone back onto the table and collapsing back on the chair with a huff, "Are you nearly done yet?"

"Nope. I'm nowhere near. Just go to your happy place John, you know the place. The one where you go when Sherlock shoots the wall. You should call it your happy palace." she said. In truth, she had finished typing up the post just a minute ago and was now looking through the comments on her posts. Most of them were bad; most of them were good, but she didn't care. At least her blog got mentioned on _The Sun._

Everyone was sat doing their own thing, but there was something Eliza wanted to ask so desperately to John ever since she heard about Moriarty yesterday. She didn't know if he would say yes or no, but she was going to ask anyway, "Um, John?" she asked; he looked up from his plate, "You know yesterday right? About-"

"Yeah, yeah I know. Why? What's up?" he asked, handing over the last slice of toast on the plate towards her which she took and ate silently, "You know he isn't going to do anything if we're there watching you, right?"

"Yeah of course. Well, I just wanted to ask if we could do something together. I checked this website and I am old enough, but I feel like I need permission." he nodded, "Well, I've shot a gun before and I did kill somebody-" she paused, "Accidentally! Of course. Well, I thought that maybe learning how to shoot a gun properly would do me some good?"

"What? No. Absolutely no." he said, getting up from his seat to take the empty plates to the kitchen, "You're too young to learn self defence by using a gun." As John walked into the kitchen, Sherlock walked out and took John's seat opposite Eliza, "Sherlock, surely you can't agree with her."

"Why not? If Moriarty is planning something then shouldn't we be prepared, including Elizabeth?" said Sherlock, who took the laptop from Eliza and used it himself, "Yes, you're blog may be more known than mine, but I don't have as many negative comments as you do."

"Don't change the subject Sherlock-"

"Wait one minute Shirley. My blog is about telling everyone what I think, including what I think about some of the people from my college, so it's no wonder that I've got so many hate comments-"

"And don't you start too-" said John, walking back to stand at the head of the table, "Eliza, it's not as easy as you think."

"Of course it is! Whenever you have a day off on the weekends we could go to a shooting range and you can teach me there. I'll be a pro in no time. It's like shooting a nerf gun, am I right?"

"Well, not exactly." he said. Suddenly the sound of a car horn echoed from outside on the street: a calling to state that Anthea had arrived.

"Just think it over John." she said, getting up from the table to grab her fully charged phone and bad filled with books, "You too Sherlock, I know you agree with me so maybe you can persuade him?" Once she had all her things and was getting her winter coat from the back of the door, she turned to look at the pair, "Remember, watch your back guys. Oh, and try and not get yourselves killed before I come home."

With one final casual salute with her hand, she turned and ran back down the stairs; hearing John shout words of good luck to her. This has been a regular thing for John to say to her, before she would leave. He knows how hard it was for her to be in a college full of people she hated, and she respected him for that. Today- as she had said to herself nearly every day- she needed all the luck she could get.

* * *

**Author's Note: Oh no, I said the title. I didn't want to but I did. Oh goodness. Think of the children...Oh well. Thank you for reading guys :) Update will be sometime next week :)**


	5. Chapter 5

There were a number of reasons that Eliza hated the people in her school so much: a) They were all pathetic to her mind, b) They wouldn't give her the time of day-literally- so why should she and c) They all still believe Sherlock is a fake. Most of London still believes Sherlock was a fake, the ones that don't have Eliza's attention. These reasons made it so painful for her to go to college that she would purposely get herself into trouble just to get out of school. However today she had no choice and did what she thought was right.

One of the courses she studied was law and today was a group discussion, which she detested the most. To her, the whole purpose of college was to study; not to meet people and make friends like group discussions offered. Even if she did hate it so much, her teacher put her into groups without Eliza choosing which group she would want to go in.

"Eliza, it's very simple. Stick with the group and answer the questions on the sheet as if they were essay questions. Why do you have to make such a big fuss of it?" asked Mrs Green who was impatiently tapping on the sheet the group needed to fill out.

"It's not that I don't understand it Miss, I just don't want to do it. Anyway, who keeps the notes afterwards? No one, so it's just a waste of time." she said, pushing the piece of paper towards the rest of the group. Mrs Green just looked at Eliza before walking back towards her desk to pick up loose strands of paper.

"Everyone. I need to hand these in to Mr Calvert so just do the task asked. When I get back I expect everyone and I mean _everyone-_" Mrs Green was looking directly at Eliza, "To finish it before I get back." Checking the class once again, she turned and headed towards outside the room; closing the door behind her.

Instantly everyone began to talk about other things besides what they were asked to do, which was another thing that made Eliza tick. The girls in her group were talking quietly over the far side of the table and were constantly looking over at Eliza, who was going over the questions she could remember over her head and was figuring out how to word out the answers. Eliza had just finished thinking about the first question before one of the girls called her name.

"Hey Eliza." she whispered, leaning over the table. Eliza didn't look up at her, "Eliza!"

"What?" she asked impatiently, looking over at the door to check she wouldn't be coming back.

"I read your blog post this morning." she said, bringing out her phone to-Eliza assumed- bring up the blog post, "'Anderson, if you are reading this then I want you to know that I still find you an irritating twat after yesterday. You're-in fact- even worse than your niece.'?"

The girl that was talking to her was Lucy Anderson, who just so happened to be Anderson's niece. When she found out, Eliza would constantly refer to Lucy as Anderson #2, because she thought that they both had the same low IQ and were slow to work with.

"Yeah, what's the problem?" she asked, getting the piece of paper with the questions to look over them, "I think that's the most truthful piece of information I wrote in that post."

"Oh? You think so do you? Well, I guess your right since half the stuff you wrote about the crime scene is utter bollocks." she said, receiving a round of sniggers from her friends.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The piece of paper was now forgotten.

"'Judging by the state of the body, the murderer must have had special access to the building'? I mean, what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well if you're tiny little brain can't handle it all then why do you read my blog?"

"Because I'm so overwhelmed by how much bullshit you have on it! And I read that Watson bloke's blog, that's bullshit too."

"Well, I'm sorry that you can't understand the simple things in life. Your uncle has the same problems."

"Well, I'm sorry that you can't settle into normal life. _Your _uncle has the same problems. I mean your family is just screwed up. You both talk out of your arses."

"Meaning?!" By now they were both standing up with half of the class watching them, but neither of them cared.

"Meaning that my uncle is a better worker than your uncle is-" Eliza gave out an over dramatic laugh that echoed in the room, making everyone turn to look at them, "Fuck off! He is."

"At least Sherlock has some common sense, not like Anderson does. And that goes for both of you."

"At least Anderson is not a fake like Sherlock is! Half of the class won't admit it, but we all still think Sherlock is a repulsive fake who _did _kidnap those kids years ago. And you go around thinking he is so great and clever, well you're just as in denial as he is. To tell you what, you're all freaks in there. You're a freak. That Watson is a freak. And last but not least, Sherlock is a freak and-" Eliza had just about enough of Lucy, and decided to do something to shut her up. Moving around the table, she grabbed Lucy's hair and pulled in down so she was thrown onto the floor, "Look, see everyone! Completely mad, just like the rest of her family _and _her mum-"

Eliza pinned Lucy down by her shoulders and wouldn't let go, even when she felt a pair of hands grab Eliza's shoulders, "Eliza! What on earth are you doing?!" Mrs Green must have been back, as she was trying to pull Eliza away, "Control yourself Eliza!"

"I'm not letting go!" She kept to her word, "She called me a freak!" Everyone in the class was surrounding Eliza and the smug looking Lucy while Mrs Green tried to push them all away, "She called Sherlock a freak and a fake!" Eliza's face was practically inches away from Lucy's, "She called my mum mad!"

"I don't care. All I see is you harming a student who is not doing anything. The way I see it, you're in the wrong. Don't make this any worse Eliza. Now please, let go of her!" Mrs Green's arms let go of her shoulders and suddenly everything was silent; Eliza's heavy breathing was the only thing that could be heard. Looking up at the rest of the class, Eliza felt surrounded. It was like Lucy's words were actually true. To the rest of the class, she must have looked like a freak. Just as she gave Lucy a cold glare, she finally let go of her shoulders and wasn't prepared for what might happened to her.

At least she brought an umbrella this time; however it wasn't needed while she was waiting for a car to pick her up. After she let go of Lucy, they were both sent to the Headmaster's office followed by three witnesses from the class, who just so happened to be Lucy's friends. As all four gave accounts of what happened that were completely untrue- as they said Eliza was taunting her- Eliza was left to give her true view of it, but it was turned down.

Lucy didn't want to call in anybody about the whole situation- as something like this had happened before- so Eliza was again dismissed from school for two days this time and was now waiting for Anthea to pick her up. The receptionist was watching Eliza from inside as she waited beside the road for a car.

Eliza reminded herself of the way people looked at her in class; it was like they all thought the same thing as Lucy did: _she was a freak_. What truly angered her was the fact that she called Eliza's whole family- including John and Mrs Hudson- mad. The thoughts went over in her head; making her blood boil and her mind racing. Nearly every part of her was hurting. People get this pain in their heart before they are about to cry, and that was how Eliza felt: like somebody was stabbing her in the heart.

She held up a hand towards her chest and clutched her clothes tightly as she told herself not to cry, but she couldn't listen to herself. One tear rolled down her left eye as she tried to blink it furiously away; then another tear fell followed by many more. She didn't make a gross sobbing noise that many people would do; it was more silent as she couldn't bear the thought of people seeing her in a state like this. It was lucky that the receptionist couldn't see her in this state.

The sound of a car pulled up in front of her, but when she made a move to walk towards it, she stopped and looked up to see it was actually a taxi. Inside was Sherlock who was looking on the other side of the window and hadn't seen her yet. Quickly she wiped her tears on her sleeve but still couldn't stop tears rolling down her face.

The door opened and Sherlock stepped outside while telling the taxi to wait. Closing the door, he turned around to look at Eliza, who was picking up her bag and walking towards him. She stopped when Sherlock still didn't make a move and looked up towards him. His face was softer than it usually was; instantly she knew that Sherlock had noticed her tears.

"When-" Using her voice after a long moment of silence made her cough her words out. Clearing her throat, she tried again, "Where's Anthea?"

"Mycroft texted me and told me to come here to pick you up." he took out his phone to bring up the message: **I've had enough. Pick up Eliza from college now. -MH**

'I've had enough' made Eliza gasp at the words as she looked at the text message. She didn't know if he had enough of the college or enough of Eliza. When Sherlock saw her distressed state, he put his phone back into the pocket and continued to stare at Eliza, as if he was waiting for more.

"Sh- She called you a fr- freak. She called ev- everyone a freak, even John and Mrs Hu- Hudson. She called my m- mum mad." She closed her eyes, as looking up at Sherlock was too painful to bear, "Sh- She called you a fake and then I just-" She turned her head away, even though she couldn't see, "I just snapped. I hate it here."

Using her free hand- as her other carried her phone- she held it up to cover her eyes as she tried to rub the tears away. "I- I guess it's my own fault really." she turned her head to the side so she was able to breath, "I did call her uncle a twat."

From Eliza's view, she could see Sherlock's hands clench into a ball as he tried to hide them in his pocket. It was then that she remembered Sherlock read her blog that morning and must have seen the blog post, "That girl that said those things was Anderson's niece." he said; she nodded. Looking up, she saw his mouth tighten into a thin line as he closed his eyes slowly before opening them again. When he looked down at Eliza, he grew less tense-his lips returning to normal- and started to walk back towards the cab before calling, "A new case. Suspected killer that's been selling drugs around London. Body found twenty minutes away from here. John's at work. It's odd not having a blogger around."

Eliza took that as an invitation and smiled towards him while wiping the rest of her tears with her coat sleeves, even though he couldn't see; and ran past him to open the taxi doors for them both, "Sounds interesting." she said, entering the taxi; followed by Sherlock who told the taxi driver where to go.

Two days she was dismissed for; as much as she loved it, she felt that her dad meant that he had enough of Eliza getting excluded. There were good reasons for this, but only few people know about it.

No matter what people said to her, Sherlock was never a fake or a freak and neither was John or the rest of her family. If that's what people thought about her and her family, she couldn't care less. She knows the truth and wouldn't think otherwise.


	6. Chapter 6

The crime scene was set in a secluded warehouse that had been abandoned after the company went bust. Since then, it's been the scene of many crimes; including murder; kidnap; theft. The rest goes on. Now, it was the crime scene of a brutal murder: a man shot multiple times in the chest with tyre marks on the ground leading away from the scene. Usually, this would seem simple. However, due to the fact that the killer carved some sort of symbol on the man's chest, they know that's it's not just a 'simple' murder they're dealing with.

The taxi pulled up down the road to the warehouse, as it had been sealed off by police officers. Both Eliza and Sherlock got out of the car; Sherlock paid the fare and both started to head down towards the warehouse. Even if it wasn't raining, the air was still cold around them and the pavements were still damp due to last night's weather.

"How do you know it's a serial killer we're dealing with?" asked Eliza.

"The symbol. I've seen it before on past cases. The symbol is of a hexagram and a heptagram in the centre. It's quite unique actually. The symbol is used by a group of drug dealers that have been working their way around Europe selling Class A drugs."

"What, you mean like Coke? Heroin? LSD?"

"That's not even half of it. Furethidine. Psilocybe mushrooms. Phencyclidine. The list-as they say- goes on."

"Enough to sink a ship then." she said. Finally they reached the gates of the warehouse which was being guarded by two police officers. They first saw Eliza and were about to stop her from entering the scene but then Lestrade appeared at the gates and watch them both coming towards him. Eliza couldn't hear what Lestrade said to the two police officers, but when he finished they returned to their posts and stayed silent.

"Glad you could make it Sherlock." he said, holding up the tape for them, "I'm surprised your here Eliza."

"Been kicked out of college for two days."

"Sorry to hear that." he said, handing the tape over to Sherlock, who held up the tape for Eliza to walk under. All three then began to walk down the concrete path towards the building up ahead. After finally seeing the building, Eliza recognised this scene from many news articles that she read; also from the television. Below- on the ground- there were tyre markings that linked the gates to the building. Around her were many people in blue jumpsuits and facemasks taking samples from the ground and around the area.

Eliza was falling shortly behind while watching everyone else work; when she saw Sherlock a further distance away, she jogged as lightly as she could back to them, "So uh, Sherlock said something about a serial killer?"

"Yeah, we've had cases like this before where a person's been murdered. We know it's a serial killer because of the symbols."

"Well, what if it's just a copycat? You know, someone might have been interested in this group's aims and thought they should do the same."

"It's not the killer that's the surprise; it's who the murder victim is."

"And who is it?" she asked. They had now reached the entrance to the building, so Eliza was given a jumpsuit to put on and shoe covers while Sherlock and Lestrade continued to walk into the building, "Hey, wait up!"

She scurried along behind them while trying to dodge evidence that's been sealed off on the floor. Many people were giving her dirty looks as she ran down the hallway towards the large room at the end, but she was too distracted to notice. Once she reached the door, the small hallway had turned into a large, rectangle room that was piled up on every ground surface with warehouse boxes and pallets stacked up to the ceiling. It was like a sort of maze to her, if it weren't for the light's that lit up the path leading towards the crime scene.

She followed the lights- while looking up at all the crates- until she reached a small section that wasn't piled with boxes. The first thing that stood out to her was the body of a man that was sprawled out on the ground with bullet marks around his shoulders and face. Some teenagers in her class would have fainted at the sight of a bare-chested man with an odd symbol on his chest and bullet wounds on his face, but Eliza wasn't like them. It actually made her more interested in why somebody was murdered like this.

"George Asturias." said Lestrade, who circled the body along with Sherlock, "45 years of age. Born in Teruel."

"Crow's Thorn." said Sherlock, "The symbol represents the group Crow's Thorn. Its original name- which is Spanish- is espina de gallo."

"What a shitty group name." said Eliza, joining Sherlock's side, "Sorry, but it is. Especially if they specialise in drug dealing." she knelt down on one knee and looked at the symbol closer, "And you think this is the symbol they use?"

"I don't think, I know. A hexagram and a heptagram is a rather unique symbol, but I've seen it enough times. We already know the symbol, but what's odd is the man in front of us." he said, kneeling down also to join Eliza's height. She looked across at him in confusion which he noticed, "George Asturias is an early member of espina de gallo."

"You're joking." said Eliza, looking at the body, "What's he doing here then?"

"That's what we want to know." said Lestrade.

"Who reported this?" asked Sherlock.

"A police officer was passing by and saw the car come out of the warehouse. Because of how many crimes this place had links to, he decided to go in and look around. Then he saw the body and called for us." answered Lestrade, who stopped and looked down at the body, "Got anything yet?"

"Oh, I have!" said Eliza, jumping up from her place; startling Sherlock whilst doing it, "Well, I think I have. Can I?" she asked to Lestrade. He nodded. Now she started to pace around the area and look around. Behind her she could hear Sherlock get up and do the same as her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the craters that were scattered with blood from the gunshot. On the ground below it were piles of cigarettes that had been stomped on by a shoe, "Well, they must have known each other. The victim and the killer."

"How do you know?" asked Lestrade.

"The symbol." said Sherlock, "Not only is the victim a member of the group, but the symbol was carved onto him after he died. One of the group's rules is that if they were to kill they would leave this symbol behind. He didn't carve this onto himself and then get shot; it was done by the murderer."

"They also must have been here on business, like they were waiting for something or someone." said Eliza. She then pointed to the cigarettes, "They had just enough time to have a cigarette before he was killed. Oh and by the way, how do you know the group's rules Sherlock?"

"I've seen something like this before, you know I do hate repeating myself. I did my research on this."

"So what changed then? Why did one suddenly kill the other?" asked Lestrade.

"Ah, that's where this comes in." She walked over to a pile of crates and pointed over on the floor, "You can see a layer of dirt on the ground, but a clear spot where the crate used to stand before it was pushed away."

"This shows struggle." said Sherlock, "The pair got caught in a fight and the murderer must have used the gun as either self defence or to finish the job he was given, judging by the struggle, the amount of bullets to ensure death and the cigarettes it must have been out of self defence."

"Which meant George here must have made the first move." Pointed out Eliza, "Sherlock, you've done research on this group, do you know anything else about George here?"

"He's one of the earliest members of the group. Seen mostly in places around the west of Europe; especially in Britain and the Netherlands. Joined the group at the age of 24 and is one of the high ranking members of the group."

"Maybe George thought that the murderer doesn't belong in the group? Or that he was given orders to kill him when instead it was the other way around? " suggested Lestrade.

"I'm not su-"

"Hello freaks." Suddenly Anderson appeared from behind a box of crates. Instantly Eliza walked away so that she was out of Anderson's sight, which was behind Sherlock. He looked over his shoulder at her and raised his eyebrow at her; she shook her head and continued to look around, "Ah Eliza, I didn't see you there. My sister called me and told me about what happened at college."

"Yeah, well I stick to what I said. I'm not going to take it back." she said, appearing from behind Sherlock.

"I didn't ask you to." said Anderson, which took Eliza by surprise. She expected Anderson would go on about how she should never speak to Lucy like that and how she should learn manners, but he didn't say anything about it, "So what have you got?" he asked to Eliza.

"A- Are you talking to me?" she said, startled at his question.

"Well of course I'm talking to you."

At first she didn't know what to do. She even looked over at Sherlock who also shared here confused look; even Lestrade was gobsmacked. First she looked over the crime scene again and thought of every bit of information she had discovered, "The murderer and the victim must have known each other because of the symbol on George. He made the first move but obviously didn't succeed. They were both waiting for something, maybe a package or a person. When it looked like it wasn't going to show up, George made the first move."

Lestrade looked at Eliza with puzzlement as she pointed out something new, "An abandoned warehouse. A large warehouse to be exact. Nobody would be around here. Why would the murderer speed away and leave tyre marks, unless they weren't a professional killer and panicked; or that there was somebody they were waiting for and didn't want to be caught in the act by them."

"So in conclusion, they both came here to wait for someone important because it was out of the way. When it looked like the person wasn't going to come after waiting, they both argued about why the person wasn't here. George started the fight but got killed during it. The murderer then left the scene and panicked, leaving tyre marks on the way. He would have fled back to a meeting point or his accommodation place whilst he was here in London, because they travel around Europe. Drug dealers who also happen to be professional killers don't stay in the same place at once, so that means he could be leaving the country now as we speak or tonight or tomorrow. So we should be looking around nearby hotels in London or looking for flights heading towards the country that the espina de gallo originate in, which happens to be-" she looked over at Sherlock for an answer.

"Teruel, in Spain." he said, looking at Eliza as if she was a puzzle that still needed to be solved.

"Teruel." She concluded.

For a while everybody stayed silent while looking at the teenager standing next to the body. When she looked up, she saw that she had gathered a crowd of people with her thoughts. There were now seven people standing around her, dropping whatever they were doing before and going over what they had just heard her say.

"That. Was amazing." said Anderson, looking as shocked as the rest of them.

"What did you just say?" said Eliza, turning around to look at him.

"What you just did then, that was amazing, especially considering how old you are." Some people nodded in agreement, "I have to say I'm impressed."

"No." she said, walking over towards him so that they were standing opposite each other, "Don't say that."

"I'm sorry?"

"Insult me, please. This isn't like you. Just tell me something that I would hate, it's weird when you compliment me." She crossed her arms and looked at him, "Well go on then."

"Well, uh-"For once he actually had to think about what insults to say to her, "-Maybe you should be normal for once?"

"That'll do." she said, unfolding her arms and walking around the area again, "But the funny thing about all of this-" she said, "-is that they were waiting for someone. Someone who was going to give them something valuable in exchange for Class A drugs. Instead he didn't show up, he left something behind for them that neither of them saw, but one of them did. When he killed George, he was about to leave until he saw it, an address maybe-"

"Sir!" called a police officer who was walking towards they group, "I've had a call from DI Dimmock. Apparently there's been another reported murder in a hotel nearby from here."

"And why have you told me?" asked Lestrade.

"It's the body sir. Another victim has had that symbol carved onto their body just like George Asturias. The only difference is that at the scene, a paper was found with an address, date and time. The time is at midnight, tonight."

Both Sherlock and Eliza looked at one another before running out of the scene with Lestrade running behind them. 'Onto the next scene', Eliza thought as she ran out of the warehouse with Sherlock at her side.

* * *

**Author's Note: I just want to point out that this group does NOT exist. I invented it. The drug types are real obviously, but the symbol is made up; the characters are and the name of the group is made up. I honestly had difficulty writing this, but I think it turned out okay. Someone(by that I mean myself) might have read The Da Vinci Code and got addicted to symbols...Sorry if this update is hours late, I'll try and be on schedule next time. Thank you for reading :) **


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